old.

"Oh! you dunce!" lisped an urchin of six years ant. James had been articled to a solicitor (the law seemed a profession suitable to his prospects), and The young heir was glad to beat a retreat; the odds though he had been any thing but studious, by dint of were against him. "grinding" and "cramming" he managed to pass his It was a short scene of a drama, acted in the minia- examination. With a portion of his fortune the share ture world to which we have alluded; and had there not of a business in his native town was purchased, and been a counteracting influence at home, Master James thus seemingly established, to the elders on both sides, Tracey Compton might have gained a useful lesson as well as to the gentleman himself, the match seemed from it. He might have comprehended that the term in every respect desirable. Poor Alice! what an beggar" applied to himself rather more than to his array against her-and what bitter tears she shed! cousins, and thence have suspected that neither money Still, though like a reed she seemed bent to the earth, nor station places us beyond the need of assistance the firm spirit of her resolves was not broken. from our fellow-creatures. But no such wholesome They had long loved each other, but only in a moseed was allowed to germinate. He told his story-ment of sorrow did the secret escape the lips of was pitied and caressed; a handsome box of colours William Compton. It is true he had never lost sight was sent, out of pique, to Susan (the only person who of the one great object which had been the ambitious benefited by the circumstance); and a childish quarrel, hope of his childhood, namely, to achieve something the bitterness of which might have passed off in a few more than independence; but he was still far from the hours, and yet some good effects have remained, was goal, and he felt he had no right to ask the hand of fretted and swelled till Master James fancied himself Alice Merton. Yet when deep emotion and the shamefully used by his cousins. Poor child! his parents strong temptation of opportunity had wrung the were far more to be blamed than himself; and as- truth from him, he certainly had not philosophy suredly they reaped their reward. They taught him enough to do other than rejoice in the sweet promise to cringe to those above him, and to scorn an obliga- of her affection-for she did promise that though she tion from such as they considered were beneath him; would not wed in opposition to her father's wishes, they repeated so often the advantages of his indepen- she would at least be firm in the rejection of all others. dence, that he grew to consider it an inexhaustible We do not believe the pretty Alice ever made any sum, and one which was to exempt him from all toil appointments with her lover, though it was strange or trouble. It took about seven years to convince how very often they chanced to meet. However, a them of their error, and then they tried to repair it- trial of their constancy was at hand. by telling a lie. They hinted that the property was contingent on circumstances-that they could prevent his touching it; but he had a keen memory, and recollected, child that he was, hearing the will read. Any lingering respect there might have been, the discovery of a mean falsehood shook off, and, before he was eighteen, Master James Tracey had plunged into a headlong career of folly and extravagance. Mrs Compton grew more cross, discontented, and ill-natured than ever. At the very time that her darling son had become the plague of her life, all "the world" of their acquaintances were praising the steadiness and good conduct of William, who had entered a merchant's counting-house, and had contrived, although still so young, to make himself of the greatest consequence in it. A blow, too, had been threatened to the pride of the family by the rumour that Emily was endeavouring to establish herself as a teacher of music and singing, and the consummation was only prevented by a very opposite, and to Mrs Compton, perhaps, a more vexatious, catastrophe. A young gentleman, with excellent prospects, had thought proper to fall in love with and marry her. Susan, whose taste for drawing had always been remarkable, had devoted herself to miniature painting, and though little more than twenty, already earned quite enough for pocket-money. It was ridiculous to call the girls "beggars" any longer. Neither was Mr James Tracey himself by any means exempt from the inward feeling of envy and the outward show of scorn which characterised his mother's sentiments towards their poorer relations; and before he was one-and-twenty, two circumstances occurred which appeared to him insults as well as injuries.

Like most extravagant persons, Mr James was not very particular and punctual on the nice point of paying debts; and on one occasion his cousin William chanced to be with him when a tradesman made some little demur before acceding to his demands. He was quite aware that James was a minor, and the article, a gun, not being absolutely a necessary, he thought the young gentleman's honour not the best security he could obtain. But he knew the character of the cousin, and turned to him saying, "If you, sir, will promise it shall be paid for at Christmas, I have not the least objection."

More than half offended at the tradesman's doubts, and never suspecting the honest intentions of James, he answered, without a moment's hesitation, "Certainly, I will take care you are paid."

Here was a mortifying example of a "beggar's" reputation being worth more than the expectations of a young gentleman of property; yet before Christmas arrived the affair was nearly forgotten, and William paid the twenty pounds out of his own earnings. It is true, his cousin, afterwards refunded it; but what then? He had submitted to obligation from William only because he dared not mention it at home. As for William, it was certainly hard to be called on to spare such a sum from the sweet money he had earned that money which seems beyond any other so especially one's own-but it was preferable to forfeiting his word. The next preference, however, which was shown, was one far more difficult to pardon.

For once the views of Mr James Tracey and those of his parents chanced to coincide. He fixed his affections on one of the belles of the place, Alice Merton by name, who was pretty and clever, and, moreover, entitled to five thousand pounds, independently of the fortune it was probable her father would leave her. But she actually preferred "poor" William. Whether it was on account of the three or four inches in height by which he outstripped his cousin James, or that his hair was darker, or that his voice was deeper, or that the pretty Alice suspected he loved her the better of the two, it is impossible to decide, for there is no accounting for the caprices of women. However, "the course of true love never did run smooth," and on this occasion the "flinty-hearted" father most decidedly favoured the views of the wealthier aspir

We have said that William Compton had contrived to make himself eminently useful to his employers-so much so, that his salary had been regularly increased; but the sudden death of the most active partner determined them to send William to London for the next twelve months, for the purpose of conducting their business in the metropolis. Assuredly, he felt that the implicit confidence they placed in his talents and integrity did him honour, and would most probably prove one of those stepping-stones to fortune which do occasionally present themselves to such as have eyes to see, and skill to take advantage of them. Still, it was a hard trial to part from Alice, and he was forbidden even to write to her. Such a separation is a trial of constancy, very different from the condition of those who, thanks to the humane dispensation of the penny post, may "waft a sigh," every day if they will, from one heart to the other. Letters under such circumstances may be all true, without containing all the truth. Like our earth, which is half in light and half by itself shadowed, is the human character; but in such a correspondence the bright sides only are shown, and, aided by that burning-glass the imagination, there is little chance of a year's absence cooling the lover's passion. No, no, no; an absence brightened by unrestrained and frequent letters is not so great a trial of constancy as daily intercourse may chance to prove, for there the dark side is turned occasionally-faults and follies are sometimes seen.

But to return to William and Alice. Mr Merton positively forbade all communication between them: although a little struck by the evident consideration in which William was held by his employers, he rather implied than promised, that if, at the expiration of a year, the young people were in the same mind, he would consider the subject. Here was an inch of ground on which hope built a fairy castle. They felt the justice of the case, and parted. We believe they loved each other with a confidence that was superior to jealousy; still, during a whole year deprived on each side of one fond assurance, they would scarcely have been human had not William sometimes envied, if he did not fear, his cousin's opportunities of pleasing Alice Merton; and had not she pictured with a sigh the many fair faces he must meet, and questioned for a moment if they would draw him from his allegiance.

But the year had nearly passed-for the lovers parted in June, and May was come when James Compton renewed his addresses more pertinaciously than ever. It was, however, remarked that on this occasion Mr Merton gave him but slight encouragement. The truth was, that rumours had reached him that the concern into which Mr James had entered was not in the most flourishing condition. He had brought money into it certainly, but he had neither improved it by connexion nor his own perseverance. From an inaptitude for business habits, he was either behind in his duties, or a dupe: this perhaps might have been amended; but his ignorance of the value of money and love of petty indulgences spoiled all—as a sagacious neighbour very graphically observed, "That young gentleman's expenditure on kid gloves and cigars would certainly form a very handsome revenue for many a respectable family." What with one thing and another, a great portion of Mr James's property was sunk, and what income he might draw from it was at least problematical. The idea of such a personage claiming the affections of Alice Merton was unutterably ridiculous.

Mr Merton, as we have said, knew something of all this; and Alice's spirits rose when she felt that her father was becoming her ally, and she looked forward with trembling hope to the next month. The first week came, the second-three more days, and the twelvemonth would have expired. It was the second morning from this time that Alice descended to the breakfast-room a few minutes before her father, and beheld, conspicuous among a heap of letters, a thick packet directed to him, in the handwriting of William

Compton. Tears Sprung to her eyes, and she raised the packet to her lips; but she could not have encountered her father at that moment for worlds. She bent her steps to the garden-not that she expected William to be there, for the term of his probation had not expired, but it was a holy spot, endeared to her by the tenderest recollections. It was full a quarter of an hour before she returned to the breakfast-room; her father had waited with exemplary patience for her fulfilment of the duties of tea-maker, although he had been down stairs long enough to read all his letters; he did not, however, make an observation upon one of them.

The

Surely that day was the longest poor Alice had ever known; and it is doubtful if the night was shortened by sleep. Morning came; a thin mist had been raised like a veil from the earth, and the thirsty sun was quickly drinking up the drops of dew which still hung upon the roses, when Alice Merton stood at the garden gate; but not alone this time. tried one was there, who came to prove his faith. Ah! that hour made ample amends for a year's pain; indeed, some people would think a year of very tolerable enjoyment might fairly have been bartered for it. There was a third to breakfast that morning; but first, William Compton told to Alice the contents of the yesterday's letter. He had been made a partner in the house he had so faithfully served, and that packet contained a copy of the deed of partnership. He was now a suitable match for the pretty heiress. A great change came over the Compton family. Within the next year William and Alice were married; but he did not forget his childish promise of showing his younger brothers the road to riches. Now that the family were grown up and settled, it was astonishing what a pretty and commodious house that of the younger Comptons became. Throwing two rooms into one, and new furnishing, made a vast difference. As for Mrs Compton senior, she had a serious fit of illness, said to be brought on by fretting at the good fortune of "the people over the way," and at her own son's disappointments. Instead of blaming her own folly, and learning, however late, a useful lesson from its consequences, she took to scolding and reproaching the "fortunate legatee" more unmercifully than ever. This state of things could not last. He left home in high dudgeon; and as he had not courage to break through the habits of idleness he had formed—and as his property was dwindled to a mere pittance-and as, of course, "to beg he was ashamed"-he has married a rich widow nearly double his age. Her fortune, to be sure, is settled on herself, still he derives many advantages from it.

If any parent is led to reflect on the folly of teaching children to rely on adventitious circumstances, instead of on their own conduct and exertions-or if the thoughtless but common and obnoxious term “a beggar" is in one proper instance withdrawn-this sketch from the life will not have been written in vain.

POPULAR INFORMATION ON SCIENCE. NITROUS OXIDE (laughing Gas). ONE of the most remarkable, though not by any means the most gravely important, scientific discoveries of the last age, was that of the effects of nitrous oxide upon those who breathed it. To hear that the chemist could produce a gas which, when inhaled into the lungs, threw the tamest philosophers into a state of mind resembling that of the excited bacchanal, was calculated to strike all with astonishment; and such was really the effect of the discovery. For a time, the laughing gas, as it was called, was the theme of every mouth; and many who had never given a moment's thought to chemistry, when it was working out principles of the greatest consequence to the weal of mankind, lent it a delighted attention when they heard that it could intoxicate them, if they pleased, by a few mouthfuls of an impalpable fluid.

The early experiments upon this gas were attended by circumstances of high moral interest. Towards the close of the last century, a young man, whose early days had been partly spent in a druggist's shop at Penzance, was promoted to a situation in a medical institution in Bristol, where an association of physicians were endeavouring to add to the resources of their science by investigations in pneumatic chemistry. He was obscure and unrecommended, but possessed genius, with all its usual enthusiasm. This, in short, was no other than Humphry Davy, ultimately the most eminent British man of science of his day. It was his duty to make experiments on various aëriform fluids, with a view to ascertain their effects on the human constitution. One of those which he thought worthy of investigation was nitrous oxide-a gas, however, of a very formidable kind, seeing it is nearly allied to one of the most noxious fluids with which we are acquainted, aqua fortis. This terrible association of ideas had no effect in restraining Mr Davy. After some preliminary experiments in breathing the gas diluted with common air, and finding no

Many other persons, including Mr Southey, who then resided at Bristol, consented to inhale nitrous oxide; and generally there was a variety of experiences in the different cases, though increased vividness of sensation and sense, and a current of agreeable ideas, were nearly uniform results. One person said that he had been excited exactly as he once was by witnessing a heroic scene upon the stage. Another compared his sensations to what he experienced when he heard an orchestra of seven hundred instruments performing the Messiah at the commemoration of Handel in Westminster Abbey. We are inclined to believe that the variety of the sensations of different persons from nitrous oxide, has never been observed with the care which the importance of the subject demands. If the different affections of different persons bear any relation to their leading and ruling passions, or to what are now called their temperaments, it would be an extremely curious fact brought to the too little cultivated field of mental science. On this subject, we present the principal part of a letter addressed to us by Sir George S. Mackenzie, Bart., in which he describes an experiment with laughing gas upon a group of remarkable men, some of whom are still living. We shall allow Sir George's views, which are those of a phrenologist, to speak for themselves.

"According to my promise, I now send to you in writing what I told you respecting the effects of a dose of the laughing gas on different individuals, whose constitutions or temperaments were considerably dissimilar. Of these I must speak in doubt; for, at the time I witnessed the scene I am about to describe, the doctrine of temperament had not been promulgated, nor was the influence of organisation on the manifestation of mental faculties known. Still, I have a pretty distinct recollection of the forms and appearances of two of the individuals I shall mention, who are dead, and if I be mistaken as to the living, you have it in your power to correct me.

The value of the facts I will state is not trifling, whether they are viewed physiologically or psychologically. The gas was very carefully prepared by the late Dr Kennedy, whose name is associated with that of Sir James Hall in his experiments on greenstone and lava, and whose death in 1803 deprived his country of the most accurate analytical chemist of his time. There were assembled at his house Professor Dugald Stewart, the Rev. Sydney Smith, John Leyden, George Cranstoun, Esq., Sir William (then Mr) Forbes; and I think Lord Webb Seymour and Professor Playfair were also present.

Professor Stewart was the first who breathed the gas. His temperament, I think, was nervous-bilious. Before it was administered to him, he expressed himself sceptical in reference to its effects, and said that

substances taken into the stomach cause an increase of temperature, by an over supply of carbon. The thermometer may become as useful as the stethoscope in directing to the seat and to the nature of disease; for we know that different parts of the body indicate various temperatures, in different states, though little or nothing has yet been done to render this fact available. As increased heat is a symptom of fever, if Liebig's discovery be true, then hepatic derangement is clearly indicated, as well as the remedy-a diminished supply of carbon and oxygen. Coldness of the extremities, likewise, would indicate hepatic derangement of another kind, and indicate a further supply of the same things. But the cause may be found in both cases not to be an over nor an under supply, but an organic defect, preventing the union of the two substances, or rendering it too facile. The great difficulty to be encountered are the periodical accessions; but even this may be removed by judicious experiments, now that we have a theory to be tested. The stomach, the lungs, and the skin, are the means of access for introducing into the system whatever we may imagine to be remedial substances. In the stomach and lungs analytical and synthetical processes go on which to us are mysterious. Still, as it has been discovered, in respect to the vegetable world, that the proper articles for sustaining vegetable life may be presented in a compound form with success, we may predicate of animal life, that changes in the composition of the atmosphere in which patients may be placed, and attention to the proportion of carbon in their food, may effect changes of temperature, and remedy functional disorders in the liver, if it really be the body's fire-place. No effects of the laughing gas have been attended to except external manifestations; and these have been the objects of mere curiosity, and not of philosophical investigation, for which a wide and interesting field is open. It is well known that certain substances taken into the stomach of many persons produce no particular sensation, while they prove irritating and poisonous to others. We have seen some variety of effect from the laughing gas in the cases I have described as merely curious; and I hope that some medicine philosopher will take up the subject-indeed, not one, but many, as the field is so extensive. A knowledge of phrenology will greatly

assist."

It may be mentioned, in conclusion, that nitrous oxide has not proved of any important service in medicine. The views as to the gases which originated the Pneumatic Medical Institution at Bristol have all been disappointed; but while the name of Davy shall survive to the respect of the world, that institution can never be forgotten.

CAPTAIN BARCLAY'S AGRICULTURAL

TOUR.

IN the month of April last year, Captain Barclay Allardice, of Ury-a gentleman who a number of years ago distinguished himself by his feats in walking, but has latterly occupied himself on his estate in the north as an improver of breeds of cattle and of agriculture-proceeded on a tour to the United States of America and Canada, of which, since his return, he has favoured the world with a neatly written account.* The principal object which this enterprising gentleman had in view in his visit, was, as he informs us, to examine the condition of the rural affairs of the States and Canada, in order to assist a near relative to determine in which a purchase of land should be made. The nature of the captain's inquiries appears to us to bear so materially on the designs of intending emigrants to America, that we propose giving a glance at them for their benefit, referring to the work itself those who are desirous of full information on the subject.

The line of route pursued began at Massachusetts, near Boston; then to New York, and thence, by the Hudson, to the western parts of New York state; the frontier was next crossed into Canada; and a re

of those coming under the description of gentlemen who had attempted to convert the forest into cornland by the force of money, the greater number quickly got rid of it, and then either betook themselves to other pursuits, or, as sometimes happened, becoming disgusted and reckless, gave themselves up to dissipation."

and the breeds of cattle are poor and ill-kept. An-
other result will by and by become painfully apparent
the land will be deprived of all its nutritive proper-
ties, and, unless where there is a good subsoil to turn
up, will be a caput mortuum-vegetatively dead.
At the Genesee flats, a rich district of meadow-land
beyond Albany, Captain Barclay visited the large
farm establishment of a Mr Wordsworth, who con- The ideas of Captain Barclay on this subject are in
ducted his affairs a degree better than his neighbours, unison with those of every impartial tourist. He
but still very imperfectly. "He has a numerous ten- thinks that Canada is chiefly to be recommended to
antry, but under a tenure which can yield neither poor and hardy labourers, who will be contented to
profit to the landlord nor benefit to themselves; they erect a rude hovel of log, and clear a few acres of
have no leases, but plough and sow from year to year, land for a plain subsistence. He says the price of
the landlord receiving for rent a portion of the pro- clearing an acre of forest cannot be less than L.20,
duce in kind. His portion is ascertained on the field and for a lower sum an acre of good cleared land
after the crop is reaped, and is delivered by the ten- can be had in the States. We need not follow the
ants at an appointed hour, where it is instantly captain through the remainder of his journey, but
thrashed out, and the straw given to the winds. Such conclude with the advice which he offers to agricul-
a system must be a bar to every improvement; it in turists who think of emigrating. "Where the Bri-
fact operates as a prohibition of all exertion and ex- tish farmer is possessed of capital sufficient for the
penditure by the tenant for increasing the fertility of purchase, and also the stocking and cultivating, of a
his farm-it being unreasonable to expect that any farm, he might certainly find his account in making
tenant will use exertions or lay out capital where the a purchase in the States. From the generally mode-
landlord is to reap, certainly a large share of the be-rate price of land, and the opportunity he would have
nefit thence accruing, and, from the precariousness of of reclaiming a fertile soil, or, by his superior skill,
the tenure, perhaps the whole." It might have been rendering that which is already reclaimed greatly
added to this just observation, that in many parts of more fruitful, he might assure himself of such a return
England the same yearly-tenant, or tenant-at-will sys- for capital as I believe is not to be had from agricul-
tem, prevails, so that in such places the land does not ture in any other country equally abounding as the
produce perhaps more than a half of what ought to States are in all the comforts of life."
be its legitimate crops.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.
SCREWING DOWN TEACHERS.

IN former notes, we adverted to the under-payment
of teachers as one cause of the deficient supply of
educational talent. Our remarks then had reference
chiefly to stated salaries or endowments, as provided
by town-councils and heritors. We would now ad-
dress a few words to parents, on the too common
practice of negotiating with teachers for a reduction
of the school fees.

Near Mr Wordsworth's, our tourist was shown two desirable estates for sale-" One of 300 acres, the other of 500, with a capital mansion-house and orchards on each; and I was told the price of such land in this locality ranges from L.10 to L.20 an acre." He visited the farm of a Mr Macnaughton, a Highlander, about sixty years of age, from Lord Breadalbane's country, who "came to America fifteen years ago, with a small capital, and now he possesses 500 acres of the best wheat land, all cleared, and his own property. He showed me a field of 60 acres of wheat, and mentioned, in connexion with it, a circumstance Some parents go to a school, as they would to a furnishing a striking instance of the rapid rise of the shop, to purchase a certain quantity of education, as value of land in this quarter. Soon after his arrival, they would food or clothing, at the lowest possible a neighbour wished to purchase this field of him, and price. They inquire the amount of the fee, and he accordingly parted with it for 900 dollars, which whatever that may be, a guinea or a half-crown, they was considered the full value of it. In the course of object, and propose an abatement. Their arguments are three years his neighbour determined on selling the amusing: "Schooling is very dear to what it was whole of his property, and offered this field to Donald, when they were young-Mr So-and-so charges far less but now at the price of 3000 dollars; this he at once-teaching is but little trouble," &c. Others, we have agreed to give; a bargain was struck accordingly, and heard, claim a reduction because the pupil is very the first crop of wheat yielded the purchase-money." young, or very little, quite forgetting that there is At Caledonia, a town in the vicinity, the tourist at least as much trouble in teaching a very young procured an interview with a Scotsman, from whom, child as one more advanced, and that a greater says he, "I learnt that 250 Scotch families are settled amount of professional skill is requisite in the forin this neighbourhood; the greater part of them came over forty years ago with very little capital, many of them with hardly sufficient to purchase a yoke of oxen; they all got wealthy, and now they own farms varying from 200 to 600 acres each."

The captain now crossed at Niagara into Canada, where he was shocked with the different aspect of affairs. "On entering Canada, I had been impressed with a marked difference between it and the United States. In the latter, the people were every where distinguished by that cheerfulness and appearance of contentment which attend activity and exertion in peaceful pursuits. In Canada, there prevailed an almost universal gloom, the consequence of recent internal commotion; of the still existing conflict and rancour of political feeling; or of the withered hopes of many who, having speculated largely in land, have received little or no return for their money. This was my early impression, and any thing I have since observed, or by inquiry ascertained, has served to confirm it, and to satisfy me, that of the two countries the States hold out, for agricultural pursuits, by far the greater advantages to persons possessed of any capital. With the exception of portions of cleared land, varying from fifty acres in some situations to several hundreds in others, Upper Canada is an immense and turn made to New York by Pittsburg, and different trackless forest, forlorn and forbidding at best, and in parts of Pennsylvania-the whole occupying ten weeks many places rendered more gloomy and repulsive by of the summer of 1841. The observation made by the the trees having been burnt preparatory to being cut tourist in every quarter of the states, was that there down, and consequently now presenting to the eye nowas great natural fertility in the soil, much that was thing but bare and blackened poles. And with regard very beautiful in the scenery, and not less to praise in to what is called cleared land, it consists of no more the manners and appearance of the people; also, that than a patch here and there, on which the huge pines in most places land could be obtained at moderate that for ages had been tenants of the soil, have, by the prices; but that every where there prevailed the same application of fire and axe, been reduced to stumps objectionable system of agriculture-no attention paid four feet in height, so thick set as in many places to to breeding stock, no process of manuring, no leases bid defiance to the plough, and to preclude any mode granted to tenants, each being allowed to crop his of cultivation except sowing and hand-raking the land as he pleases; and, consequently, there is a pro- seed. There are here no railways, and no interior digious waste of means and resources. The leading water-carriage, advantages so amply enjoyed in the error is inattention to what is called convertible hus-States; and although there are roads, they are of such bandry, or the proper rotation of crops, by which a a description as to be nearly impassable, excepting in sufficiency of green food would be raised to feed stock winter, when the sleigh is made use of. Upper Canada, during winter, so as to use up the straw, and pro- too, is comparatively destitute of local markets, or of duce a quantity of restorative materials to the soil. any proper outlet for the surplus produce of the land; The common practice, the captain mentions, is to for the population is not only thin and widely scatgrow clover along with wheat; the wheat is reaped, tered, but themselves chiefly agricultural, each family and, after being thrashed, the straw is burnt in order therefore raising sufficient for its own supply; and to get rid of it; the clover, after being suffered to there are no towns of any magnitude to create any grow till the second summer, if so long, is ploughed considerable demand for the surplus, nor if there were, down as manure. The result of all this is, that the are easy means of transport afforded. In such cirland does not yield half the grain crop it should bear, cumstances, it is by no means surprising to find that the greater number of those who had speculated in land have suffered grievous disappointment, and that

* One volume. Blackwood and Sons. 1842.

mer than in the latter case. Parents of a third variety may be found demanding a discount because they have three or four to pay for; and they quietly hint, that if the teacher will not give education to four for three fees, he shall have none. Would these parties admit such a practice in their own trades or professions? Would a banker lend four hundred pounds for the interest of three? Would a landlord let four houses for the rent of three? Would a baker sell four loaves for the price of three? Again, a fourth class will advance many pleas to the same purpose; such as "The boy joined the class a week after the quarter day; now, there are twelve weeks in a quarter, and the fee is six shillings; therefore sixpence must be deducted!" These people would be astonished, were they informed that the teacher, instead of granting a deduction, would be justified in charging double fee, as a trifling compensation for the extra trouble caused by his urging the laggard pupil on to overtake the class. They will also plead, "The boy was unwell for three days and a half!" In short, each economical father or managing mother believes that every shilling kept off the teacher is a shilling justifiably gained.

Besides these attempts at reduction, which every independent teacher should resist, there are others to which the benevolent must yield. A widow struggling to give her child a good education-a professional brother having a family to bring up on limited means -a merchant, suddenly unfortunate, whose children may have been with the teacher for years-all have claims upon his gratuitous services. Thus, if even those who are the most successful, and hold the most lucrative situations, realise far less than calculators suppose, how great must the privations be to men of very limited incomes, thus cruelly diminished!

In one word, let parents economise every where, that they may be generous, or at least just, to the most laborious and worst remunerated of all professions.

THE CONDEMNED GUN.

Juries are sometimes a set of very stupid people. At the trial of a gentleman for accidentally shooting his servant (thinking him to have been a robber on the premises), which took place a few weeks ago in an English provincial town, the jury returned a verdict of "a deodand of L.1 on the gun, which we recommend to be forthwith destroyed." Was there ever any thing to match the absurdity of this?-the gun, the unoffending instrument, the insensate material, is ordered to be put out of existence, for the murderous crime of which it has been found to be guilty! The thing reminds us of the consoling declarations of a nurse, when her baby knocks its head

of Mr Macrae, called upon Sir George with a second note from that gentleman, once more insisting on the man being turned off, and stating that, in the event of his refusal, Mr Amory was empowered to communicate his opinion of his conduct. Sir George did refuse, on the plea that he had yet seen no good reason for his discharging the servant; and Mr Amory then said it was his duty to convey Mr Macrae's opinion, which was "that Sir George's conduct had not been that of a gentleman." Sir George then said that further conversation was unnecessary; all that remained was to agree upon a place of meeting. They met again that evening at a tavern, where Mr Amory informed Sir George that it was Mr Macrae's wish that they should meet properly attended next day at twelve o'clock, at Ward's Inn, on the borders of Musselburgh Links.

The parties met there accordingly, Mr Macrae being attended by Captain Amory, and Sir George Ramsay by Sir William Maxwell; Mr Benjamin Bell, the surgeon, being also of the party. Mr Macrae had brought an additional friend, a Captain Haig, to favour them with his advice, but not to act formally as a second. The two parties being in different rooms, Sir William Maxwell came into that occupied by Mr Macrae, and proposed that, if Mr Macrae would apologise for the intemperate style of his letters demanding the discharge of the servant, Sir George would grant his request, and the affair would end. Mr Macrae answered, that he would be most happy to comply with this proposal, if his friends thought it proper; but he must abide by their decision. The question being put to Captain Haig, he answered, in a deliberate manner, "It is altogether impossible; Sir George must in the first place turn off his servant, and Mr Macrae will then apologise." Hearing this speech, equally marked by wrong judgment and wrong feeling, Macrae, according to the testimony of Mr Bell, shed tears of anguish. The parties then walked to the beach, and took their places in the usual manner. On the word being given, Sir George took deliberate aim at Macrae, the neck of whose coat was grazed by his bullet. Macrae had, if his own solemn asseveration is to be believed, intended to fire in the air; but when he found Sir George aiming thus at his life, he altered his resolution, and brought his antagonist to the ground with a mortal wound in the body.

There was the usual consternation and unspeakable distress. Mr Macrae went up to Sir George, and "told him that he was sincerely afflicted at seeing him in that situation."* It was with difficulty, and only at the urgent request of Sir William Maxwell, that he could be induced to quit the field. Sir George lingered for two days. The event occasioned a great sensation in the public mind, and a very unfavourable view was generally taken of Mr Macrae's conduct. It was given out, that during a considerable interval, while in expectation of the duel taking place, he had practised pistol-shooting in his garden at a barber's block; and he was also said to have been provided with a pair of pistols of a singularly apt and deadly character; the truth being, that the interval was a brief one, his hand totally unskilled in shooting, and the pistols a bad brass-mounted pair, hastily furnished by Amory. We have Amory's testimony, that as they were pursuing their journey to another country, he was constantly bewailing the fate of Sir George Ramsay, remarking how unfortunate it was that he took so obstinate a view about the servant's case. The demand, he said, was one which he would have thought it necessary to comply with. He had asked Sir George nothing but what he would have done had it been his own case. This is so consonant with what appears otherwise respecting his character, that we cannot doubt it. It is only to be lamented that he should not have made the demand in terms more calculated to lead to compliance.

The death of an amiable man, under such deplorable circumstances, roused the most zealous vigilance on the part of the law authorities; but Mr Macrae and his second succeeded in reaching France. A summons was issued for his trial, but he was advised not to appear, and accordingly sentence of outlawry was passed against him. The servant's prosecution meanwhile went on, and was ultimately decided against Mr Macrae, although, on a cool perusal of the evidence on both sides, we see the clearest proof of Merry having been the first aggressor. Mr Macrae lived in France till the progress of the Revolution forced him to go to Altona. When time seemed to have a little softened matters against him, he took steps to ascertain if he could safely return to his native country. It was decided by counsel that he could not. They held that his case entirely wanted the extenuating circumstance which was necessary, of his having to contemplate degradation if he did not challenge. He was under no such danger; so that from his letters to Sir George Ramsay he appeared to have forced on the duel purely for revenge. He came to see the case in this light himself, and was obliged to make up his mind to perpetual self-banishment. He survived thirty years. A gentleman of our acquaintance, who had known him in early life in Scotland, was surprised to meet him one day in a Parisian coffee-house after the peace of 1814-the wreck or ghost of the handsome sprightly man he had once been. The comfort of his home, his country, and friends, the use of his talents to all these,

*Letter of Captain Amory, MS.

had been lost, and himself obliged to lead the life of a
condemned Cain, all through the one fault of a fiery
temper. Reader, if thou shouldst ever feel thyself
hurried by such a cause towards rash words and acts,
however trivial, think on the fate of this unhappy
man, pause, and be cool. Thou little knowest what
may arise from a small ill-considered action. A rap
over a servant's knuckles led to a scene of disgusting
violence: four or five days after, a short imperious
letter, beginning "Sir," brought two gentlemen to a
field, where one fell in the prime of his days, and
whence the other fled to be a remorseful and miser-
able exile for all the remainder of his life.

DOUGLAS JERROLD'S “CAKES AND ALE", Is a merry little book, in two volumes, with plates by Cruikshank-a fair specimen of the light literature of our age-vivacious, superficial, somewhat extravagant, yet in the main well calculated to serve the end in view, namely, to amuse the passing hour. Mr Jerrold has a high London reputation as a writer of short pieces for the stage, and it is not therefore surprising to find the present prose sketches marked by a certain improbability of incident and situation which is not generally tolerated out of the drama; but, to make up for this, he has infused some remarks and moralisings of a kind for which his plays had not prepared us. The difference between the professed and real practice of men in many domestic things may be every where observed, if we look narrowly. Most men, for instance, have a theoretical and practical hour of rising. Ask one when he usually gets up, and say he mentions seven. Take this as his theoretical hour, the hour at which he wishes to rise, thinks he should rise, and once in a twelvemonth does rise; but be sure that in reality he does not in general see much of the daylight world before eight. Say eight, again, is his professed or theoretical hour, it will be found that nine is the real one; and so on. Mr Jerrold has a penetrating eye for these discrepancies. Mr Pigeon is a young man a fortnight married. Coming home prematurely from Brighton, he determines to go out, leaving his young wife, the very first night-though he is "the same l'igeon whose landlady had given him for a character, as she thought, all the virtues of a household god. Pray, ma'am,' inquired Charlotte's busy maiden aunt,' what are the habits of Mr Pigeon? He is about to marry into our family, and you'll pardon the question-what are his habits? Habits! replied the landlady; 'the woman's blessed who gets Mr Pigeon-gruel at ten, and bed at eleven.' And these moral proprieties, on the part of her future husband, were impressed upon the brain and heart of the bride by the aunt aforesaid. Gruel at ten, and bed at eleven!' reiterated the spinster; it seems little to speak of, child, but what a deal of happiness is ensured by the custom!' Mr Pigeon, assuring his wife that he would keep aloof from all acquaintance, took his hat. Mrs Pigeon looked at her lord with a mild mixture of matrimonial sorrow and anger. Can the female reader wonder at this? It was already halfpast nine, and Mrs Pigeon sighed as she thought of her aunt; yea, she sighed deeply at the visionary happiness of gruel at ten, and bed at eleven.

All men,' said Susan [the servant], marking the melancholy of her mistress all men are alike, ma'am.'

'They are, Susan,' said Mrs Pigeon. 'Where's my handkerchief?"

he stands pricking his ears at his own inhospitable door."

To the same effect is the following "bit:"-" Young Brown inherited from his father the equivocal sum of a thousand pounds. He had better inherited nothing; for, in the present state of society, we hold a thousand pounds to be not merely a useless but a mischievous sum: it is not a negative good, but a positive evil. What is to be done with a thousand pounds? Put it in the funds, says Quiet, and philosophise upon thirty pounds a-year! There are exquisite essays written to prove the sufficiency of thirty pounds a-year, allowing at least five shillings per quarter for the conversion of the Jews; essays, in which the expenses of a pauper gentleman are so nicely calculated, that it must be his own wilful eccentricity if, at the end of the year, he either owes a shilling or has one. We happen to be honoured with the short acquaintance of the author of some of these libretti. He had thrice been shut up in the Fleet on an income of three hundred per annum, and was consequently enabled to preach on the competence of thirty pounds a-year. It was during his third visit to the jail that we had some interesting talk with him. He was lamenting the extravagance of the present generation; and passing his right hand under his velvet cap, and turning his pensive and eloquent eye upwards, asked us if we had ever read his book. Of course we had. We, however, ventured to question the correctness of its conclusions; in a word, we were hardy enough to express our doubts of the possibility of existing as a gentleman'-for such were the author's premises-on thirty pounds a-year. 'Look at Higgingbottom,' said we; he has followed your system to a chop, and yet Higgingbottom is in debt.' 'Pardon me,' quickly returned the author, 'I grant his obedience so far as the chop goes, but there were three days in the year that Higgingbottom would not take his chops without pickles. Now, my system is so philosophically arranged, as not to admit even of a single onion. Depend upon it, my dear sir, with a wise economy, a man may always on thirty pounds a-year obtain his chop; the ruin lies in the pickles.' We were about to dispute the point, when the temperate author began to swear at a boy who entered with a bottle of port. And where, you scoundrel,' cried the author of a treatise on the sufficiency of thirty pounds per year- where, you miscreant, are the olives? What! forgot them? Vagabond! to suppose I could drink port without olives! Vanish! Stop! Don't make the blunder you made before-mind, French olives!" These neat pieces of philosophy, slashed into Mr Jerrold's stories, speak for themselves. Alas for the illusoriness of all human professions, and the infirmity of all human resolutions!

Passing from these matters, we are reminded of the fine allegorical writing of the Elizabethans by such passages as the following, which relates to the anticipations of Mr Silvertop, an author on the point of finishing a great metaphysical work :-" In another month, he would no longer creep along the streets, accompanied by Desert, a pretty fellow, yet withal a timid, blushing, stammering knave, content to slink with him he waits upon, down dismal alleys, over barren heaths, at length, it may be, conducting his master to a dry ditch for his bed, and to wild cresses and water for his breakfast-a trick the varlet hath often put upon brave spirits-but, in his place, that swaggering, brow-beating, gold-laced lacquey, Success, would clear the way for Silvertop, would strike off the hats of the mob, content to be so unbonneted, seeing that Success-oh! the magic of his name upon the world, hath willed it-nor ever ask whence comes he-what's his value? No matter for his birthplace, his parentage; Success has all-in-all in his name. Though he were born on the wayside, his mother a gipsy, and his father a clipper of coin-for his name, and name alone, men shall bow down and worship him. Desert weeps at the early grave of the brokenhearted; Success eats ortolans with a quacksalver at threescore. Men may certainly be brought to allow the possible existence of unrewarded Desert, but for Success, there can be no doubt of its vitality; he is seen, known, touched; nay, sometimes men dine with him."

Mr Pigeon is thus described on his way home at an early hour in the morning. "As the man crept homeward, there was culprit in his looks-in his hesitating pace. He had, it was true, fallen into a most delightful party-had been so happy, so very jolly; but now, alas! it wanted only seven-and-twenty minutes to six. What a beautiful morning!-yet what a reproach came with the bright sun! Sam blushed as he met the milkmaids; artisans passing to their work, made him turn his head away; the chimney-sweepers, crying their noisome trade, struck him compunctious; yea, the very sparrows, chirping and playing in his path, gave him a twitch of the conscience. Let not the reader think that Samuel Pigeon had any fear of the violence of his ill-used spouse; no, she would only weep-for she was a young wife, and How well, too, are some modern follies touched had not yet come to her nails. It was a nobler feeling upon in the following description of the visit of a that possessed Pigeon-not base dread, but bitter great foreigner to an ancient English borough :— repentance. He had been beguiled into cards-had,The church bells rang in the happy day; shops were moreover, been very lucky-but what was luck at closed; every man, woman, and child, in their best nearly six in the morning! He had held the most clothes, and with their blithest looks; fifty maidens wonderful hands at loo, and had never played but scattered roses in the path of the magnificent stranger, when justified by both king and queen. And then he and a thousand voices rent the sky, at the first glimpse thought, and in the dissatisfaction of his soul almost of his right royal beard. The Spaniard alighted at gave vent to the words "Tis six in the morning the mansion-house, and though he spoke not a word my wife is sitting up-and, compared to domestic of English, expressed himself enraptured with his peace, oh! what are trumps?' reception. At which Tobias Aconite placed his hand upon his heart, and upon his honour declared that day to be the very happiest of his whole existence. The Spaniard and his followers having partaken of a slight repast of brawn, brown bread, and ale-a public-spirited economical townsman calculated that each man consumed a pound and a half of meat, a twopenny loaf, and two quarts of liquor-were conducted by the mayor and other authorities to inspect the public works and buildings of Hole-cum-Corner. Thus moving in slow procession down Prigapple Lane, the Spaniard was shown the stocks; at which curious instance of man's ingenuity he expressed his most intense delight. He was continually heard to murmur

Pigeon, with heavy legs, walks on; and now he approaches his door. He scrapes his shoes as tenderly as though he scraped his bare feet; he wants to cough, but he hasn't sufficient nerve to risk the operation. He looks at his knocker; the lion's head ornamenting it seems to stare with new ferocity upon him. He touches the knocker as if it were red-hot-shakes it spasmodically-tap, tap, tap-and to Pigeon the sound seems to search through a dead, deserted house-a desolate homestead. Has Charlotte gone to her family? Or, anticipating the completion of a threat to be made in after-life, has she already taken a lodging? Strange thoughts chill the heart of Pigeon, as